


Comfort in Touch

by summercarntspel



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Cute, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summercarntspel/pseuds/summercarntspel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapper is sore from working so many hours in surgery, so Hawkeye offers to give him a massage. (Told from Hawkeye's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort in Touch

I narrowed my eyes, pausing mid-lather, my hand slowing its rubbing of circles onto the center of my chest and turned a glance to my left. There stood Captain Trapper McIntyre, my partner in crime, love, surgery, and just about everything else, looking like he was about ready to keel over, the chilly spray from the shower causing little rivers of water to trickle down his face and neck.

"Trap, you alright?" I asked, finishing up my soaping before I tugged on the cord for the water, rinsing my body off before I let the cord go, folding my arms on top of the thin divider between our shower stalls, "You look dead on your feet. You look more dead than last night's meatloaf, which isn't saying much, but you get my point."

We'd just gotten out of sugery, having worked all through the night and most of the morning, and decided that while everyone else slept, we were going to make an attempt to grab a warm shower. No such luck, of course, but we got to spend some quality alone time together.

That time spent together, however, would be considerably less quality if Trapper passed out.

"My feet aren't the problem," he grunted, letting out a pained little noise as he pulled his soapy hands up, probably intending to wash his hair, but giving up about halfway through the journey, letting them thump back down against his sides.

"Then what is?" I asked, still staring at him, watching as he tried to force himself to keep upright, watching him barely winning that battle.

"Every other part of my body..." he insisted, shaking his head before he moaned, trying to roll his neck to relieve a kink there, "Everything from my head to my ankles is pounding, Hawk. My back is killing me, and I don't think I can move my arms above shoulder level without them breaking clean off."

I clicked my tongue in sympathy, knowing just how he felt. I would have felt the same aches and pains, if I wasn't utterly numb all over.

"Here, come here..." I smiled sadly, gesturing for him to move closer to me, grabbing my own soap and working up a rich, bubbly lather between my palms, "I'll wash your hair for you, then we'll go back to the Swamp and I'll give you a massage."

He seemed skeptical at first, glancing around nervously and biting his lip, "What if we get caught, Hawkeye? The massage is one thing, but you washing my hair? We'd be strung up."

"Everyone's asleep!" I insisted, swatting at his bare shoulder with my sudsy hand, "Just let me do this, huh? Those curls are a hell of a lot prettier when they're clean and not matted down with sweat."

He relented, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he shifted over to me, grip immediately loosening when my fingers dove into those messy, dishwasher blonde curls.

"That's my good boy," I praised softly, leaning in to drop a kiss to his tense shoulder blade as I lathered the soap through his hair, continuing the gentle scratching and tugging motions until I was satisfied, then carefully pushing him back under the showerhead and tugging the cord, "Rinse now."

The soap dispersed quickly, leaving nothing but clean, wet locks in its wake, and I cut off the flow from the shower when the water ran clear.

"That felt good..." Trapper mumbled, leaning his head against my shoulder, taking a few deep breaths, "Were you serious about that massage?"

I chuckled, gently rubbing my fingers over the top knob of his spine, "Mmm, sure was, but only because I like you so much. How about you march your cute little fanny over to the supply tent and get comfy on one of the extra cots and I'll be along in just a second."

"You're not walking with me?" he asked, the smallest trace of disappointment in his voice as he shifted a bit, stepping out of the cubicle and tugging his golden robe on, tying the belt tight.

I rolled my eyes, copying his actions with my own robe and crossing over to him, cupping his cheeks with my hands and staring deep into those honey brown orbs I knew so well.

"I'm just gonna make a pit stop at the tent to grab some of that massage oil we got in Tokyo..."

At that, his eyes lit up more than I thought was possible in his state, and he leaned forward to swipe a kiss before he hurried off as fast as his sore body could take him, flashing me a smile over his shoulder.

True to my word, I stopped in the tent long enough to grab the purple glass bottle I was storing in the corner of my foot locker, pausing on my way out of the Swamp to offer a sleeping Frank a moderately obscene gesture with a particular finger. After that duty was done, I scampered out of the Swamp, hurrying to the supply tent and letting the door shut behind me with a quiet little slap.

And there he was, good old Trapper, stretched out on his belly on a cot, everything below his waist covered with a light blanket, head resting peacefully on his folded arms.

"If you weren't dying in pain, I would definitely make a pass at you," I chuckled menacingly, kneeling down next to the cot and showing him the bottle of body oil, "You look gorgeous."

He scoffed, trying to hide his smile by burying the lower half of his face in his arms, despite the fact that his smile was clearly displayed in his warm eyes. "You're just trying to sweeten me up so I'll give myself over to you later."

"You make it sound like you wouldn't give yourself over regardless," I laughed, uncapping the bottle and dribbling some of the oil onto the center of his back, spreading it around with the tips of my fingers before I began working out the tension and knots, "You're wound up tighter than a spring..."

"Mmm... I could have told you that."

"Why didn't you mention this sooner?" I asked, trying my hardest to keep my child reprimanding tone out of my voice, but not being overly successful, "I could have fixed this earlier... Even if I didn't massage you, we could have worked this out. Sex is one of the best cures for this."

Trapper snorted and giggled, his face nuzzling into the flat pillow below his arms and head, "According to you, sex is one of the best cures for everything."

"Listen here, buddy, I'm a doctor and you should be listening to my recommendations," I insisted with a smirk, my fingers digging into the most tender spots of his back.

Trapper shifted a bit, letting my fingers and palms dance over the bumpy path of his spine, "And I'm a doctor, too, buddy, and I think you should know that you're full of shit."

I didn't offer a reply at that moment, my fingers working at the small of his back as I let my lips trail a few kisses down the back of his neck comfortingly, gently.

He sighed, adjusting his head on his arms and letting his eyes flutter shut. "You're an asshole, but you have the hands of a god..."

"Well, I was saving this for some other time, but I figure I might as well tell you now that my father was the love child of Zeus and a pretty little woman from Maine."

He hummed at that, sighing again when a particularly hard knot finally released itself, so I continued.

"You see, I thought my grandfather was never around because he was an old drunk, but it really turns out that he wasn't my real grandfather, y'know? That Zeus was a tricky bastard, I tell you. What do you think about that, Trap?"

I waited for a reply, but received nothing.

"Trapper? Trapper, are you in there?"

The next sound that came to my ears was a soft, familiar sort of snore, a little snuffling noise that rose in pitch towards the end.

I smiled, shaking my head and patting his lower back gently, pressing a quick little kiss to his wet hair before I tugged the blanket up a bit higher.

"Mhm... glad to be of service," I laughed softly, fondly, getting to my feet, "Goodnight, Trapper."

A soft snore was the only reply I got, but I didn't mind. It was the only reply I needed.


End file.
